The flames from the torches flicked wildly, casting an eerie glow onto the walls and leaving the lone occupant of the tomb in shadows, his body curled away from his despicable guards, his mind racing. He knew he had to escape; he had to get away before the evil of his captor took over his soul. He looked at the walls feeling torn. He knew he could try to decipher the words of the dark arts and put his life in jeopardy or he could hope his guards became lax in their vigil and gave him a chance to escape. He took as deep a breath as he could manage in the harsh humidity of the room and felt his lungs protest the lack of decent oxygen. He had lost all track of time with no set schedule and no sun to guide him. He bowed his head and implored the gods to deliver him from the evil sorcerer holding him captive. He felt his gaze drawn to the entrance despite his fear and his unwillingness and his body shuddered as the dark forms flitted through the darkness. They had no proper name, being so despicable, so evil that it only took the thought of their existence to instill fear in any person unlucky enough to hear the stories. He had come to call them Shades as they seemed to be made up entirely of thick black smoke, their forms floating above ground, keeping to the shadows as if even the touch of wholesome torch light was more than they could physically bare. So far the light seemed to be their only weakness. Any time he had dare venture close the red heat from their eyes pierced his body, leaving him confused for days. He let his mind wander back to a time of joy, of happiness, but most gloriously it was a time of freedom. He missed the children. He missed bedtime stories and night time adventures. He knew he should feel bad for teaching them the art of thievery but it was how they survived, how the twenty-odd children kept food in their bellies and clothes on their backs. And he had taught them well. They knew a good mark from a bad one, they knew the art of the distraction and of team work and when it was safer to be alone. He felt pride in the thought that they could take care of them selves when he had not been so fortunate. As he started to think on his own childhood he was yanked back to the present as a voice filled his head, deep and ominous. “Adone, tell me what I wish to know.” Before his eyes he could see the city he loved, the house he treasured filled with his children. “In but an instant I can erase that house from existence.” He watched as a deep black haze covered the city, terror filled screams filling his head until he hurt from the noise. When the haze lifted his home was gone. “Just tell me Adone, tell me and they will be spared.” Adone fell to his knees, weak with the horror filling his head, ripping at his soul. Even as he felt despair rise to engulf him he felt his strength as well. “Sorcerer, you may fill my mind with your vile words, but I will never give you what you ask. That would destroy those I love more than your hate driven magic.” He closed his eyes and chanted, blocking the pain and the evil. He would not succumb to his demonic captor, no matter what was done to him. The children would be safe. |
